Some Kind Of Rescue
by berrywarbler
Summary: Rachel was the star of the glee club, the good girl who should have wanted nothing to do with Blaine and his illicit activities in hidden stairwells. That didn't stop her from being drawn to him as much as he was to her.


Kurt Hummel, it seemed, had been nothing more than a means to an end Blaine had never seen coming.

He remembered the boy briefly from their overlapping moments at Dalton, smirking in the background as Kurt tried to make a name for himself before Sebastian shut him down with a few too many snide remarks about how this wasn't public school, standing out wasn't acceptable, being unique and original were only detriments in a private school. He had transferred back within a few weeks, not cut out for the rigors of private school, and Blaine didn't give him a second thought for another year.

He had been kicked out of Dalton under what he assured his parents were false accusations, but the truth was he was almost excited about going to McKinley. It's lack of actual guidance and professionalism in its adults made it easy for him to sneak out of classes, and within his first week he figured out where the stoners hung out, settling himself into their group with ease.

Quinn was the so-called leader of the girls he hung around, an ex-cheerleader who wanted some peace and quiet after three years of rising and falling through the social classes of the high school. She didn't say much to Blaine, just offered him a cigarette his first day, and the two seemed to be on good enough terms after that. He shared his pot, she shared her cigarettes, and together they spent most afternoons under the bleachers watching the football team practice.

He hadn't even remembered that Kurt went to the same school until a brunette girl was dragging him with her to try and save Quinn. Blaine kept his focus on Kurt, who seemed to stare back with vague recognition, ignoring as Quinn shot off about how little the girl knew, how Quinn wasn't going back, how everyone needed to leave her alone.

He noticed the girls flicker towards him momentarily, long enough to size him up before grabbing onto Kurt's hand and lead him away, head held high even as Quinn fell back onto the ground, muttering about how this Rachel Berry needed to stay out of her life for _once_.

Blaine took no notice.

His focus was solely on Kurt, from that day forward. He started moving in closer and closer, occasionally brushing by when they walked down the hallway in opposite directions, but Hummel was used to being prey for others-usually the receiver of bullying-and he learned to ignore Blaine. The girl, Rachel, was almost always on his side, almost always staring after Blaine as he walked past. At first, she didn't even register on his radar, not until Quinn started snapping at her, always quick to make a comment and while Rachel usually kept quiet, she sometimes held her own.

He didn't put much thought into the brunette until she cornered him one day where he was leaning against a locker he was pretty sure wasn't his, her eyes stormy as she glared at him when she walked past. "Have a problem?" Blaine drawled, the marijuana in his system slowly wearing out but in effect enough to make things a little less sharp than they should have been, the way her hair twirled around as she spun on her heel to face him practically hypnotizing him for a moment.

"Should I?" she snapped, arms crossing over her chest. Blaine shrugged in response, and god her hair looked so soft he wanted nothing more than to run a hand through it, to press his face into it and see if it smelt like fresh flowers, snapping out of his reverie when she started yelling once more. "You're making Kurt nervous, and I don't think you need to be lurking around him! He's had enough problems in his life, and if you're only here to cause more for him you're going to have people to answer to!"

"Like you?" he asked, an amused smile on his face and while she made a face of disgust she still moved towards him, a small step that distracted him enough to notice her legs-for a short girl, they seemed to go on for miles before disappearing under her summer dress.

"Like my boyfriend and Kurt's brother, Finn Hudson, and our friend Noah Puckerman and-"

"The guy that knocked up Q?" Blaine questioned, Rachel faltering for a moment and seeming torn between asking about how he knew about that-Quinn had told him enough about her to know that she seemed to genuinely care about his pink haired friend-and snapping some more, her annoyance seeming to win in the end.

"That's all in the past, and Noah and Finn wouldn't appreciate it if Kurt told them how you've been sexually harassing him in the past few weeks!" she finished indignantly before turning once more on her way down the hall.

"Guess I'll just have to change my target then," Blaine called after her, and while she paused for a moment, she didn't say anything before turning a corner, Blaine left chuckling on his own.

* * *

It had been a joke, at the time, but even as he continued to try after Kurt he realized that Kurt wasn't really the one he wanted, not anymore. Her act of defiance had placed Rachel on his radar, and Blaine would have lied if he didn't admit he wanted her on his own again. Quinn was the first to notice, scoffing as she mentioned that there was no way she'd leave Finn, not now that she finally had sunk her claws deep into him.

Blaine told her not to count her chickens before they hatched.

He didn't intentionally chase after her as he had Kurt-not only had that failed, miserably, but he suspected she wouldn't give into a relentless game of cat and mouse. If he stayed on her horizon and kept his distance, it would lure her away-she'd want what she thought she couldn't have, and as Quinn filled him in on the story of how Rachel and Finn came to be, he was sure he was right.

What he hadn't expected was to stumble upon her one afternoon in an empty stairwell Quinn had shown him for when the weather was bad, her body nearly doubled over in half as she wrapped her arms as tightly around her as she possibly could be, sobbing quietly. He had half a mind to run away, disappear before she could notice him, but he wasn't a dick-he wasn't going to leave a girl crying in a stairwell. Quinn would have laughed had she been with him, but she was off taking a history exam he knew she actually studied for, despite her words saying she didn't care about school anymore.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, Rachel's head whipping up to see him standing awkwardly on a stair staring at her, and she immediately tried to calm herself. "What do you want?" she asked, her voice accusing even as she wiped away tears, messing up her makeup slightly in the process.

"Originally, I wanted to get high in peace, but I stumbled upon a girl freaking out in my spot, so…" Blaine informed her in a monotone voice, Rachel rolling her still-watery eyes as she tried to collect herself. "You okay?"

"Fine," she snapped, already using the haughty tone she used around him. He'd heard her, in passing, talking to the people she assumed to be her friends-the ones he knew talked about her behind her back, insulting pretty much anything they could. It was softer with them, and Blaine figured he probably deserved the more reserved Rachel.

He moved to sit down, leaning against a wall kitty corner from her, letting his legs stretch in front of him so that if he moved his foot just a few inches it'd be in contact with her own, something Rachel seemed to notice too as she stayed perfectly still. He didn't say anything as he dug out the joint Quinn had slipped in his pocket only a half hour or so before, fishing his lighter out of his other pocket and feeling Rachel's eyes on him the entire time.

"It's rude to smoke in front of others," she said quietly, though she made no motion to move away.

"Well, I'd offer you some, but something tells me you don't light up?" Blaine half-joked, Rachel's nose crinkling in response.

"Smoking in general is bad for your vocal chords," Rachel mentioned as soon as he had lit his lighter, his eyes closed as he took a hit. He nodded, a general motion so she'd known he'd been listening without really paying attention. "I can't let anything stand in the way of my future, to have anything derail me. I'm not-I can't stay in Ohio, and anything that's not a part of the plan is strictly-"

"The plan?" Blaine interrupted, his voice quiet as he let the smoke lull him into a sense of contentment, breathing it out only once he could no longer hold it in.

She hesitated for a moment, staring at him as if he was going to suddenly start mocking her for it, but when he kept silent she seemed to think it was okay to actually acknowledge his words. "New York. Broadway. The Plan," she said by way of a real explanation until Blaine moved his foot to kick her own gently, waving his hand before taking another hit. "If I get into NYADA, I'll move to Manhattan over the summer, by my junior year I'll start auditioning for off-Broadway, and by the time I'm 25 I'll be headlining a Broadway show. Preferably one of my favorites, though I think I'd settle for anything if it meant being on a stage every night," she finally let out.

"What happens if you don't get in?" he asked, finding himself curious for no reason other than curiosities sake.

She let out a small chuckle, wiping at her face once more. "Then I end up in a stairwell, crying until someone interrupts me so they can get high," she responded, Blaine frowning in response as he threw the rest of the joint-now burned down to its very end, nothing more than a roach-down the stairwell before shuffling over to sit next to her. She seemed startled at his movement, even more so when he rested his head on her shoulder, but it was an act he hadn't put much thought into other than thinking that she looked sad, like she could use a friend, and her sweater looked incredibly soft.

"You didn't get in then?" he asked after a moment, breathing in the smell of soap and some sort of perfume that all seemed very _her_, even if he couldn't place it directly at the moment.

"Kurt got his letter for auditions yesterday, and I still haven't gotten mine," she told him quietly, her fingers picking at invisible lint from her tights.

"Doesn't mean you haven't gotten in," he pointed out, "just means your letter hasn't gotten here yet."

"Can I tell you something? In confidence?" She sounded so quiet, so nervous, that Blaine actually lifted his head off her shoulder to look at her-her chocolate brown eyes seeming to water with whatever she was keeping inside her, and Blaine couldn't help but melt, just slightly, at the sight.

"Who would I tell?" he opted for, because it wasn't like he told anyone anything anyways. Quinn knew bare bones, if that, he mostly sat back and watched everyone around him. It was easier that way, meant he got less attached, made it easier when people inevitably blew him off or disappointed him.

"I don't want Kurt to get in," she said in one quick breath, "especially not if I don't."

"Isn't he your best friend?" Blaine asked, confusion knitting his eyebrows together as she nodded.

"He isn't-he doesn't want this as badly as I do," she continued, trying to justify her statement. "He doesn't try as hard, work for as long as I do. He's been through a lot, more than most but-it's almost like he expects things to be handed to him because of it. He complains until he gets what he wants, and I've worked for anything I've gotten. And if he gets into NYADA and I don't-"

"It'll be like a slap in the face," Blaine finished for her, and she nodded, sighing as Blaine rested his forehead against her shoulder. "I could actually slap him for you, if you want," he offered, a laugh falling from her mouth at his words and he found himself laughing with her, the warm haze that had taken over his body causing even more giggles even when she eventually subsided her own.

"I think I'll be able to handle it on my own," she informed him. "But thank you for the offer."

They fell into a silence, not uncomfortable even as Blaine's fingers pulled at the fabric on her sweater, Rachel only swatting him away when it started to wander too close to anything she would have surely deemed inappropriate. She seemed lost in her own thoughts, surely of New York and this strange friendship she had with Kurt, Blaine content to lay his head on her shoulder and think about how soft her body looked, how shiny her hair was and how white her teeth were.

She seemed almost reluctant to get up when the bell rang, Blaine removing himself from her side as she stood, his eyes focused on the way her teeth chewed on her lip as she smoothed out her appearance. "Thank you," she told him quietly, and while he didn't know what she was exactly thanking him for, he nodded before she disappeared, looking more like herself when he walked past her five minutes later on his way to class.

The only difference was, this time she didn't glare at him.

* * *

The next time he found her in the stairwell, he didn't say a word and sat down in his space away from her while he lit up. When he was finished, it was her who moved next to him, placing her head on his shoulder and he didn't ask her why as he played with the ends of her hair, instead asking her to sing for him. She did so after a short laugh, singing anything that seemed to pop into her head. He hummed along quietly, playing with her small hand in his own as she did so.

Sometimes he thought about how different his time with Rachel was spent. Quinn wanted him nowhere near her, the two sitting in silence unless she was feeling particularly moody and bitchy, her eyes glazed over as she kept her thoughts-the real ones, the ones he knew were about the baby she had given up and the life she once had-were kept under lock and key. Rachel, however, had no problem letting him snuggle up to her, her fingers running through his hair as he lay his head in her lap or his arm wrapped around her as she leaned into his side. She'd complain about the things in her life that he had a feeling she couldn't let out elsewhere-problems with her boyfriend, who didn't seem to want anything for himself, problems with Kurt, who seemed to want everything she wanted without putting in the effort, various members of the glee club and their many, many flaws.

Usually, whenever he was with Rachel, he didn't let himself think at all. He let the drug do its job of taking him out of his body, his senses wrapped up entirely in her. He offered her a joint every once in a while, but she'd shoot him a wry grin that simply said 'no', and he'd shrug before carrying on.

It wasn't something that they planned on doing, meeting there every day-he'd learned that she had a study block that period, excusing herself to the choir room under pretense of rehearsing before slipping away to meet up with him, and he never questioned why she still came. It was a question linked together with why _he _still came, when the weather outside was growing nicer by the day and he could have just as easily joined Quinn under the bleachers as snow melted and spring returned. He decided these things were better left untouched, a part of him afraid that if he did push it, question her on it, she'd run back into her world that he was never going to be a part of.

One day, she didn't show up at all. It worried Blaine, who hadn't realized how much he came to depend on her presence over the passing weeks, but she simply gave him a small frown when he passed her later in the hallway. They never spoke outside of their interactions in the stairwell, no one knowing that he could tell anyone every single one of her dirty little secrets, ones that most would never even expect Kurt to know.

When she finally rejoined him, three days later, she sat down on his side and nodded as if affirming her decision that she'd yet to clue him in on. "I want to," she told him, Blaine raising an eyebrow. "I want to give it a try."

"You don't have to, you know," he said, but she shook her hand, digging the lighter out of his pocket without hesitance, Blaine's eyebrow shooting up in surprise. "But clearly, you want to."

"I just-I don't know how," she admitted, chewing on her lip as she stared at him. He chuckled lightly but held up the tightly wrapped joint, bringing it to his lips and feeling some sort of weird tug at the thought that Rachel was focused so intently on them before he lit the opposite end with his lighter, taking a deep drag and holding the smoke inside his mouth until he felt his eyes water, letting it out slowly before passing it to her.

She furrowed her brow in concentration, holding it to her own lips and trying to suck in what she could before ultimately failing, passing the joint back to him as she coughed heavily for a few moments, shaking her head as he rubbed her back gently and fought back laughter. "How do you do that?" she choked out after a minute, her eyes watering from discomfort as she let out another small cough, Blaine allowing a small smirk to toy with his face for a moment.

"Smoking is definitely not your thing, Berry," he joked, and she gave him a glare that seemed to say 'try me', clearly not over the idea of getting high with him. "I don't want you dying on me, so you're not smoking again."

"There has to be another way, don't people like, use other things to inhale it?" she asked, and he wanted to laugh as she couldn't locate the terms she wanted before an idea struck him.

"There's another way, but I don't think you'll agree to it," he told her, knowing the more he taunted her with it the more she'd want to give in.

"How?" she asked, moving closer to him almost on instinct. All sense of personal space seemed to have evaporated between them long ago, something Blaine had to admit he was fond of, but shot gunning with her would still press into something he'd never tried for with her, if only for fear of her never coming back.

"What's the point in wasting my breath, you won't agree to it," Blaine shrugged, playing with his lighter lazily, and as expected she let out a small groan of frustration.

"I agree, just-just do whatever it is, okay?" she asked, her voice small but her eyes wide and trusting and Blaine found himself nodding.

"Close your eyes," he commanded, and she gave him a skeptical gaze but did so anyways, Blaine muttering "just trust me," before taking a deeper drag than he was used to before turning towards her, pressing his lips firm against her own and taking advantage of her small gasp of surprise before pushing the smoke into her own mouth.

She managed not to cough nearly as much when he pulled away, a look of slight indignation and curiosity spread across her face, Blaine lighting the last drag before throwing away the roach while she sat silently next to him.

It wasn't enough to get her stoned, he knew, but given that she'd never done anything it would be enough to get her out of her mind for a bit, away from whatever was weighting her down, and he let her wrap her arms around his own as she leaned into him, not saying a single word as they sat there. He wanted to ask what the sudden change was about, but decided against it as she let out a sad sigh. Whatever it was, it wasn't good, and it was something Rachel clearly couldn't seem to process.

Later that afternoon, when he walked into his English class and found what had to be the picture of Rachel in the future sitting at a teacher's desk, rumors flying about the mysterious Ms. Corcoran, Blaine figured out what it was Rachel was refusing to deal with and didn't entirely blame her when she asked to do it again the next day.

* * *

She didn't talk about it for nearly two weeks, not until she was forced to when Ms. Corcoran stumbled upon them sitting in the stairwell. They hadn't gotten high yet, and Rachel's back immediately straightened as Blaine looked between the two curiously. "Rachel, why aren't you in class?"

"I have a study period," she retorted sharply, in a tone that Blaine had used to be on the receiving end of.

"I don't think this is what they had in mind," Ms. Corcoran said dubiously, looking at Blaine for the first time. "And what about you, what are you doing out of class?"

"Study hall," Blaine replied easily. "And since I'm getting all A's, and I'm sure Rachel is as well, I don't think it's the worst thing in the world for us to escape from the stress of sitting in a classroom for 45 minutes to relax." Rachel's eyes were focused on him now, and he was sure he knew why-he didn't usually speak, especially not when he was sober, but Rachel wasn't acting like herself when this woman came around and it irked him. She wouldn't tell him about it either, and she'd told him about everything else, which meant that Ms. Corcoran bothered her more than she'd ever let on.

He didn't know how he knew these things when they'd only been around each other for a couple months at most, but he did. He knew to instinctively squeeze her hand to stop her from panicking, that she'd always tense slightly when they shot gunned but that she'd allow it anyways, the way she always wore a navy dress on Tuesdays and how whenever she was fighting with Finn-which was more often than not, these days, as their futures drew closer and closer-she'd be more affectionate with Blaine. Quinn had commented on how Blaine spent his time staring after her, how his crush on her was bordering on 'pathetic', but Quinn didn't understand Rachel the way Blaine seemed to. To Quinn, she was a boyfriend stealing attention whore who helped play a hand in ruining her life. To Blaine, she was rapidly becoming everything he never allowed himself to want before.

Ms. Corcoran left shortly after Blaine's statement, though it seemed to be against her better judgment, and Rachel relaxed visibly as she disappeared. "Thank you," she said quietly, and Blaine just nodded before setting them up once more, the motions second hand at this point. She didn't speak again until they were good and stoned, her eyes glossy as she lay her head in his lap, allowing one of his hands to rest on her ribcage while the other ran through her long hair, her stare directed at the ceiling above her. "She wasn't supposed to come back, you know. She shouldn't have. She's-she's messing Quinn up even more by being here. Quinn doesn't need any more reminders of the child she gave up."

"She's messing you up too," Blaine reminded her, but she didn't say anything at that. "Does it hurt? That she took another kid over you?"

"No," she responded quickly, too quickly and Blaine just raised an eyebrow before she sighed and nodded. "I love my dads', I do but-"

"It's your mom," Blaine offered, and she nodded, turning her head away from him as her fingers toyed with the hem of her shirt, an action Blaine was entirely too focused on for his own good. "Have you told Finn about this?" he asked as a mean to distract himself, feeling a slight twinge of guilt as he normally did when Finn came up. Blaine had a feeling the quarterback wouldn't appreciate the friendship Blaine had forged with Rachel, nor would he appreciate the way her simple touches here and there seemed to set him on fire.

"No," she answered. "He doesn't-he was there, when Shelby first came around, but he wasn't a part of it. And he doesn't have to be. He has enough of his own stuff going on. I'd rather keep him out of it."

"Those are some pretty lame excuses to not tell your boyfriend you're upset, Rach," Blaine pointed out, but she just scoffed as the bell rang, using his shoulder to push herself up into a standing position before helping him off the floor as well.

"It's my boyfriend," she told him, her eyes holding steady with his own. "I'll tell him what I think he needs to know."

The meaning behind her words, that Finn certainly didn't know about her newfound activities with Blaine, or that Blaine even registered on her radar at all, was loud and clear. Blaine wondered how pissed off she'd be if he fixed that.

* * *

It wasn't even an intentional thing, to run into Finn on his own. Blaine had taken advantage of the nice day out and tried to stretch muscles he hadn't used in far too long with a jog along the track, only to realize that the other boy was watching from the fence, eyes entirely too focused on Blaine for Blaine to think he was looking elsewhere. His mouth set in a firm line as he jogged over to him with a short "If you take a picture it'll last longer."

"I wanted to talk to you," Finn replied after a roll of his eyes. "And I didn't exactly think tracking you down when you were with Quinn was a great idea."

"You mean, after you dumped her at a funeral? No, probably not," Blaine retorted, Finn's fists clenching slightly before he took a deep breath.

"I know that you have a thing for my girlfriend, Anderson," Finn said, Blaine's eyebrow shooting up in response. "You stare at her, like, way more than I used to when she was going out with St. James, and you're constantly just…around. You need to back off."

"What if I don't?" Blaine challenged. "What if I get closer and closer until you're just a thought of the past?"

"I'm not the only one you'd have to answer to," Finn retorted, definitely trying to look intimidating but Blaine just scoffed. He could have brought up how he already had more of Rachel than Finn would have ever wanted him to, how it wasn't _Finn _she ran to when she was upset. How even if they didn't acknowledge each other outside of their mornings spent together, he probably had more of a hold on her than the boy she held hands and walked down the halls with. But he knew it wouldn't have backfired on him, only Rachel, and he didn't want to cause any more problems than were already there. The fact that Finn thought him enough of a threat to come single him out was good enough for him.

"I guess I'll take my chances then," Blaine shrugged, a confident grin on his face as he walked off. "Good chat, Hudson."

The sound of indignation he heard as Blaine headed towards the locker room would have made him double over in laughter, if only for the fact that Finn just had no idea how bad off he was.

* * *

The morning he saw the two of them fighting, loudly, by her locker, he didn't go to their usual meeting spot. The spring air was unseasonably warm, even if it was cloudy and the sky looked like it was seconds away from falling apart and drenching him, and he made his way to the spot underneath the bleachers where he had first seen her that day back in the fall, when she'd been trying to win Quinn back to their team. He wondered when her attempts at that had been given up, or if she'd even be able to try and tell Quinn she was better than this with a straight face anymore.

He'd only been there for a few minutes when the rain started, hard and fast but Blaine didn't even think about moving. It was a lost cause, after all, if he moved from under his safety of the bleachers he'd have been drenched within seconds. He might not have been depressed but he thought the melancholia of the scene might make him think harder about what he was doing, luring Rachel away from all her good-girl ways and bringing her deeper into his own life. They'd started talking on the phone, something she initiated and he didn't bother asking when she had gotten his phone number. He liked listening to her talk, late at night, her voice lulling him to sleep. She was a lot chattier sober than he would have liked, but that was nothing new anymore. Few things about her surprised him anymore, and he was worried that maybe he'd somehow become too attached to her.

That didn't stop him from moving over when she came running out, ducking her head as if it'd stop her from becoming drenched in the walk from the gym doors to Blaine's hiding spot, her dress soaked through and stuck to her skin while her hair looked almost impossibly dark and long, strands attached to her face even as she tried to swat them away. She looked upset, as she crashed next to him, and he knew what was wrong before the words even left her mouth.

"We broke up," she said simply, her eyes focused on Blaine's, intense and dark and just a hit of mania lying behind them. He didn't say anything in response, just dug out the joint he'd taken with him and fished for his lighter as she continued. "I got into NYADA, finally, and he got into some deal with Puckerman-they're moving to California. I can't do that, I can't be 3,000 miles away from the person I'm supposed to stay in love with, not while focusing on school and my future and-everything kind of came to a head."

"And you broke up," Blaine clarified, Rachel nodding as she gathered her hair at the base of her neck, chewing her lip as her legs were drawn up towards herself.

"I haven't loved him in a long time," she said quietly after a moment, resting her head on her knees and shivering slightly. "It was just time to end it, once and for all."

Blaine didn't say anything else, simply lighting up while he mulled over her words. He wanted to ask when she'd stopped being in love with Finn, but it seemed like too much-it was too much, so instead he chose the easy way out, and when he pressed his lips against hers to push the smoke in, letting her get a large enough hit before he snubbed out the joint, he moved back in, kissing her without any pretense of it being anything else. She didn't really respond, froze almost under his touch, and when he pulled back she seemed to be wide eyed and confused. "Why are you doing that?" she questioned, her tongue darting out to taste her lips even as he let out a small chuckle.

He could have told her the truth, how he'd wanted to do that for as long as he could remember now, but truths were better left unsaid. "Do I need an excuse for kissing a pretty girl in a very, very wet dress?" he asked instead, and she blushed slightly before shaking her head 'no', allowing him to encroach in her personal space once more.

This time when he kissed her, she kissed back.

* * *

They went from spending a 45 minute period of time in the morning together to spending most of their afternoons together as well, though they finally branched off from secret spots around the school. They didn't talk about it, what they were doing, at all. Any mention of feelings was hushed with a kiss, regardless of who mentioned them, and while they still spent more time in their respective groups-he with Quinn, her with Kurt and the glee club, they at least acknowledged each other in the halls when they passed now.

Quinn bitched for at least two weeks, about how Rachel was determined to steal absolutely anything she felt she could from her, only for Blaine to point out that Rachel hadn't done anything of the sort, that he had stolen her from her world if anything. It shut Quinn up enough, at least, leaving Blaine alone with his thoughts once more.

Time seemed to slide by even quicker, now that Rachel had her college acceptance and Blaine even had his-nothing nearly as exciting as an elite performing university, and nothing he had even told her about-but she found the acceptance to Northwestern on his desk one afternoon, immediately throwing her arms around him and telling him how proud of him she was. It was the most relationship-y they had been, and Blaine wanted to roll his eyes and scoff at the motion but she proved in spades just how proud she was, and Blaine was never going to turn down anything she wanted to do.

Graduation soon came, and with it even more free time. She was off running around with Kurt and preparing for their inevitable departure, but whenever she wasn't with him she was with Blaine. He still hadn't told her that he was sure he was in love with her, nor had she said the words to him. It was easier that way, he supposed, to leave and go their separate ways at the end of the summer. It was simpler if they got high in his bedroom-Rachel finally learning how to smoke on her own-and spend the rest of the afternoon tangled up in each other, no words necessary.

He was hesitant about actually having sex with her, and not because he didn't want to-he spent more than enough time thinking about what it'd be like to do just that-but because it was soon July, with only a few weeks left, and leaving her was already going to be hard enough. Still, she was nothing if not determined to get what she wanted, and when they did one stormy evening when her dads' were out, Blaine almost felt the words slip out.

He managed to catch them just in time, instead placing a chaste kiss on her forehead as she snuggled up close to him, Blaine glaring at the calendar across the room that marked the 23 days they had left together.

* * *

"I'm going to miss you," she told him quietly, her fingers running over his palm as they sat in her basement, completely sober and taking one another in for the last time before they each departed, Blaine for Chicago and Rachel for New York. They'd agreed to part amicably, to not put a strain such as distance on themselves and to let the other go, but Blaine knew it'd be hard. The girls in Chicago would never hold a candle to her, and he'd caught her whispering about how no boy would capture her as completely as he had when she thought he was napping one afternoon.

"Only for a bit," he told her, brushing away a stray hair. "The bright lights of Manhattan are sure to leave me far behind soon enough," he grinned, but the heartbreak etched across her face at his words only hurt him, and when she launched herself on him he didn't stop her. He simply wove his arms around her waist, holding her tight and breathing her in. "I'm going to miss you too," he promised, his voice quiet as he kissed the side of her head.

"Blaine, I-" she started, but he shook his head 'no' with a heavy gulp because he knew, he knew all too well what she felt because he did as well.

"It'll be harder, to go," he told her, and she nodded before kissing him sweetly, the words they weren't allowing themselves to say being passed back and forth between closed lips and gentle hands. It seemed like all too soon that he had to leave her, tears gathering in the corner of her eyes and he wanted to pick her up and take her with him to Chicago, or better yet run away with her to New York, but they couldn't. Years from now, he'd remember her as his first real love, the girl he never expected to feel anything for, a fond smile on his face as he told someone about how he used to get the star on Broadway high in a stairwell in the back of the school. "You're going to be a star, Rach," he promised her as a goodbye, and she just bit down on her lip to keep from crying out, Blaine walking backwards the entire way to his car before he drove off, knowing that the freedom of starting over was now tainted and bittersweet if Rachel wasn't with him.

* * *

It took him two years to finally accept the fact that Rachel was never going to be someone he got out of his head, out of his system. Even as he started at Northwestern, flying through his prerequisites and forming a new life for himself-one outside of someone else's shadow, one where he didn't resort to drugs to numb himself from feeling things, one where he could actually be himself, she was always on the back of his mind. He'd see a brunette in a yellow dress, and he'd think of how Rachel used to wear them, how they twirled around her thighs as she spun around looking for something. He'd see flyers for a musical the theater department was putting on, and he'd think about how Rachel was off in New York, soaring through NYADA better than anyone could have imagined. He'd find some girl at a party, always shorter, always brunette, never able to drive him as crazy as Rachel had.

By the time he started his junior year, seeing a post on his facebook that Rachel had landed the lead in her schools rendition of some musical he'd never heard of, he knew he had to give up, give in, and before he thought too much into what he was doing, he was heading on a plane to New York.

He didn't think to be nervous that she might not want him, that she might have long forgotten him until he was dodging tourists as he cut through Times Square, heading towards the address he had memorized his entire flight there. He might not have ever gotten over her, but that didn't mean she hadn't moved on from him, and it almost made him stop in his tracks, uncharacteristically nervous for the first time he could remember.

It was her voice that brought him back, a soft "Blaine?" snapping him out of his imagery of Rachel walking with some strange man and laughing in his face only to see her standing right in front of him, light green dress and free of any entanglements attached to her.

"Rachel," he breathed, everything he had never told her bubbling to the surface before she could even ask what he was doing as he rushed out an "I love you," her face stoic for a moment as she examined him cautiously.

"Did you fly all the way from Chicago to tell me you loved me?" she asked quietly, Blaine nodding as he waited for something, anything, and the hint of a smile forming on her face gave him some sort of hope. "It's been two years, and you flew on a plane to come-"

"Yes," he interrupted, unable to stop himself. "Because I was stupid enough to think it shouldn't have been said back then."

Her grin widened and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close and it was only as she whispered "I love you too," that his world finally felt like it was back in place, kissing her in the middle of a sidewalk and saying the words over and over again.


End file.
